Heartless
by xxskyWriterxx
Summary: My true heart belongs to me and only me. I am above such human weaknesses, and I realize that there is only one solution to the problem. I don't care what I lose in the process. My life included. -Oneshot. No pairings intended. Mandy's POV.-


**Heartless**

A 'Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy' Fanfiction

Every idiot who lives in Endsville knows this rule. They've had it burned into their brains since they were kids, lectured over and over again by protective parents, and I was no exception: Don't go out at night. Smart idea. After all, with all the monsters and creatures of the Underworld that roam the Endsville streets every night, you'd think the safest thing to do was to at least be separated from them by your locked front doors. My stupid mother had told me (and reminded me and reminded me) of this rule so many times that I'd wanted to blast my head off; her scolding voice echoed in my mind as I plodded down the sidewalk, concentrating on the sound of my Mary Janes clacking on the concrete as the cold whipping wind bit into my bare arms and legs, left stupidly unexposed by my pink sleeveless dress, the hem of it fluttering just above my knees. A particularly strong gust tore into my flesh like a knife of ice, my pale blonde hair fluttering and goose bumps rising on my arms; I folded them tightly against my chest and gritted my teeth against the chill. My dark eyebrows furrowed at my own idiocy. I couldn't believe I'd forgotten the stupid jacket.

My eyes drifted up from staring at my shoes and scanned the quiet residential neighborhood, sitting peacefully under the dark blanket of nightfall. The star scattered sky was a deep shade of navy, and the full moon shone like a pearl. It looked like any city suburb, with the quaint, small houses, ornamental hedges, and neatly trimmed, fragrant lawns. But Endsville was not even close to being a normal town.

Windblown leaves, trash, and bits of grass swirled around my ankles as I slowly crossed the street, my legs shaking slightly from the chill. Pitiful was what it was. My fists clenched as I unfolded my arms, letting them swing ferociously by my sides. Stepping up the curb, I gazed ahead into the gloom. The twisted and rusted wrought iron gates of the Endsville cemetery loomed above my head, like jagged mouths leering and sniggering at me. I narrowed my eyes and drifted through the lopsided gates, the dank, dry grass of the graveyard crunching under my feet, releasing its familiar musty scent. Inhaling deeply, I strode deep into the murky grove, the inky blackness pierced only by whitewashed beams of pale moonlight that broke through the canopy of fluttering and crackling black leaves, rattling on the twisted gray branches of the cemetery trees. These pools of moonlight swirled over me as I walked, the dank odor of death heavy in the air; the bitter breeze bit at the back of my neck like the breath of the Devil. If I hadn't traversed this graveyard about a million times before, perhaps it would've been slightly unsettling. But I wouldn't know. I didn't know fear.

Over the creaking of the branches, the desperate howling of the wind, the crackling of the dead grass, and the whispering of the windblown leaves, my ears caught another familiar sound; the low, robotic groan and dragging footsteps of the undead. A slight sigh escaped my mouth as I brushed a loose strand of short, pale blonde hair behind my black headband, my coal colored eyes glittering in the shattered moonlight. Curse those infernal zombies, always getting in my way.

I felt the cold grip of the undead on my elbow and whirled around, hair flying in the wild wind and my mouth curled in a nasty snarl. Easily pulling free of the zombie's icy grasp, I dropped to my knees and seized it around the bony knee, jerking it backwards; it was yanked over my head and crashed to the ground like a felled tree, its pale, shrunken face distorted as it screeched in agony. Jumping to my feet, I gazed coldly down at it as it writhed in pain, nothing but papery skin clinging onto fragile bones. And those bones were easily broken. I lunged forward, my icy fingers closing around its skeletal forearm, and gaze a great yank. The zombie squealed as its arm pulled out of the shoulder socket with a sickening snap. Twirling the detached arm in my hands, I growled viciously and plunged the makeshift spear deep into its ribcage; it let out a bloodcurdling screech of agony, the high pitched trills throbbing in my eardrums. Suddenly there was a crack and the dying zombie burst into a mass of writhing blue flames, sending a chilling wave of cold shuddering over my body. I gasped with the cold and as quickly as it had come, it had gone, leaving behind nothing but a small pile of ashes, which were instantly scattered like graying rose petals by a sharp gust of bitter autumn night wind. My breath coming fast and sharp, I gazed upward into the inky black canopy; a glowing mass of rippling gas rose into the endless night sky, twisting and swirling in the wind, as fragile as a glistening silver spider's web. It soared higher and higher until it faded out of view, melting into the blackness of the heavens. One more soul returned to the Underworld, from where it had come. Exhaling sharply, I brushed the ashes off of my palms and plodded onward, heading towards the glow that was the edge of the murky grove. In the back of my mind, I wondered if a soul would drift out of _my_ body if some creature of the dark managed to reduce it to ashes. Probably not.

Twisting my way amongst the wicked, twisted skeletal trees, I stepped out of the inky grove and into a grassy clearing, narrowing my eyes against the full shine of the moonlight. The dying, graying land stretched almost as far as the eye could see, sometimes as flat as a plain, sometimes rising into dirt scuffed hills, and sometimes dropping into craggy, rocky ditches. Gravestones littered the landscape like cracking, molding jagged teeth, sitting lopsidedly and casting long, ominous shadows. The stench of death was even stronger now, still lingering in the stale air even when buffeted by a blast of relentless wind. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and letting the smell fill me as blood would fill an empty glass; the odor trickled down my windpipe, tingling with cold, sticking in my throat like a mass of tangled cobwebs. My eyes slowly fluttered back open, my chest burning with the red hot flame of bloodlust, swelling and warping inside of me. It had to be done, and I had to do it. I felt the chill of the wind against my pale, sweaty palms before I clenched my hands into two tight, small fists. My scowl deepening with every step, I strode out across the parched land, dust billowing in swirling clouds at my ankles before being swept away by the stabbing wind. I concentrated on my scraping footsteps, as my palms grew hotter and wetter with every one. Grimacing, I gritted my teeth and continued my trek, one step after another, slowly working my way up a dirt caked hill, my sliding shadow stretching out behind me as if it was trying to hold me back. I knew I shouldn't be doing this. But at this point, I didn't care. I didn't care about anything anymore.

Walking slowly, I crested the hill and abruptly froze, my eyes widening. I heard it. The low, rhythmic thumping sound pounded over the whistle of the wind, over the rustle of the grass, over the shrill screeches of the distant bats, and the groaning of the meandering undead. I'd seemed to have forgotten how to breathe, how to move. My body was as rigid as the leaning tombstone that was embedded in the crusted dirt in the center of the hill's crest. The tombstone's granite surface was cracked and worn, the inscription worn down by years of battering wind and beating rainfall, yet one word of it was still readable, and that word stood out so strongly that I could almost hear it being spoken out loud: _Hearts_. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, and couldn't think. All I could hear was that thumping, that god-awful thumping. The heartbeat. _My_ heartbeat. Numbly and unconsciously, my icy fingers crept over my chest, resting over the skin right above where my heart had been. There was no beat, no steady stream of life pumping under my fingertips; there was just stillness, stillness like death itself. I had no heart anymore. It was long gone.

It had happened not too long ago, at my house on one hot summer's day in Endsville. Billy and Grim had been playing on the green front lawn in the sprinklers, twinkling and glittering droplets of water scattering across the grass and soaring through the heavy air, stale with the summer heat. They were laughing like the buffoons they were, Billy squealing in delight as Grim tore after him, his bony hands outstretched. Playing tag like toddlers. I'd been sitting inside, finishing my Algebra homework and glaring at them through the window, rolling my eyes at their idiocy. If the Grim Reaper didn't work for me and hang around me constantly, I'd never had believed that he could be so stupid and naïve. Sighing, I'd reached for my fat scuffed eraser, which sat on my mom's coffee table, adjacent to the couch on which I was sprawled. But I'd forgotten all about the eraser when I saw **it**, sitting on the tabletop next to my agenda. My mouth had dropped right open. Grim's spell book. Right there. Grim always carried it with him, probably because he didn't want Billy getting into it; if **that** happened, it would probably result in world destruction. But there it was, sitting on the coffee table, less than two feet away from me. Grim was outside. He could never stop me in time. I'd lingered over it for a moment, debating, but after a moment I'd snatched it up into my arms and dashed off to my bedroom, determined. I'd had it planned for months, and my opportunity had finally arrived.

My eyes narrowing to slits, I'd pushed my bedroom door open and burst in, the thick spell book clutched tightly in my sweaty hands. I hadn't wasted a moment, throwing the book down on my bed and cracking it open to the table of contents, and after looking over that for a few minutes, immediately flipping to page one thousand and five. The title of the page stared up at me in big bold letters:

_Cardiolectra levavirus_- To Remove the Heart.

My plan had gone without a hitch, even though it had been the hardest spell I'd ever attempted. And I could never forget the excruciating pain, the burning throbbing pain that had erupted through my chest in a burst of red light, enveloping my body and blinding me. I'd bitten down on my tongue to keep the inevitable scream from leaking out, blood pooling in my mouth, salty and warm and sticky. After it was done, I'd stood there like a statue for a minute, my still-beating heart sitting in my cupped hands, oblivious to the wet, hot blood tricking through my fingers and dripping from my chest where a huge hole stood open and crying, like a cavernous patch of black in the sun gilded sky. I remember feeling my heart thumping in my hands, the tiny muscles contracting and relaxing; a hot flash crossed my body and the gaping hole in my chest was completely gone, healed, as if nothing had happened. But my body was quiet, deadly still without my heart, without the beating mess that lay in my blood drenched palms. That was the last time I'd felt it. I'd stuffed it like a used tissue into a glass jar I had waiting, and that night, I'd wandered to the graveyard and buried it in the dry earth, next to the gravestone on the hill on which I was standing. If only I'd seen the huge flaw in my plan on that one hot summer's day. Then I wouldn't even need to be here.

My detached heartbeat thundered in my ears, and the hand that lay pressed into my silent chest balled into a fist, my whole body shaking; I hadn't heard that beat since the summer, and now, the sound of it was almost alien. The memories of that horrid pain swirled through my mind, that agony that had struck my body when my heart was magically torn from it, shrouding my heaving body in sticky red light. A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead and I swept it away, irritated, my teeth gritted so tight that they ached. But it had to be done. And I was the only one to do it. Still standing immobile, my hand slid down into my dress pocket and pulled out a switchblade in a sharp glint of silver. I stared at the blade, the watery moonlight reflecting off of it as a sinister white flash that slid across my pale face as I shifted the knife in my shaking grip. My eyes were fixed on my staring reflection, distorted like a gargoyle's in the tiny sliver of metal that was the switchblade. It looked pathetic, with ashen skin, windswept hair the color of corn silk, up in its usual spiky hairdo that resembled a pair of devil horns, and horrorstruck eyes, as wide as twin moons. That wasn't me; Mandy, the master of the Reaper. Growling softly, I tightened my grip on the knife's handle as my eyes narrowed menacingly into cruel slits by my unusually dark and thick eyebrows. There was no reason to be nervous, I told myself firmly as I knelt and began to scratch with my fingers in the crumbly soil to the left of the leering tombstone. This was just like stabbing another vampire, just like impaling another zombie, just like wrestling another werewolf. Except even easier. It wasn't like my detached heart would fight back.

My breath coming fast and sticky and my eyes squinting viciously, I scraped the dirt away like a lion cub, ripping and tearing at it until my eyes caught a glinting object sticking out of the earth like an exposed fossil. Even though I struggled to keep them steady, my arms began to tremble uncontrollably as I unearthed the top of a grimy, blood stained glass jar…..It was **the** glass jar. The thumping, rhythmic heartbeat pounded in my ears like a drum as I curled my gritty fingers around the edge of the rusted lid and yanked; the jar broke free of the earth, sending particles of dirt flying into the wind. I remained kneeling there for a few moments, the ground hard against my knees, clutching the jar in my hands and staring at the pulsing lump of faded red flesh, my wide eyes like lamps in the dark. I could feel it in my icy fingertips, the thump of my heart as it reverberated through the grimy glass of the jar, as if it was protesting its inevitable fate. For a second I forgot how to breathe, and then I suddenly broke out of the trance, grimacing and drawing my switchblade, its razor sharp blade glinting sinisterly in the pale moonlight. I would never let anyone get a hold of my heart, not ever again. I had to make up for that flaw in my plan. It was now or never. In one swift movement, I flipped open the top of the jar and shook my heart out of its resting place; it hit the dirt with a blood splattered thud, where it continued to beat frantically, faster and faster. I gripped the switchblade tightly in my hand as I drew my arm back, poised like a cobra that was ready to strike. My body froze again, the switchblade glinting in my grimy fist, its blade pointed straight down at my quivering, thudding heart, which was beating more rapidly than I thought was humanly possible. My lip trembled and I narrowed my twitching eyes into tiny slits, alight with the fire of fury and frustration. And then I struck like a rattlesnake, lashing quickly and ferociously, before I could consider sparing my bloodstained victim.

My shrieking scream of cold, white fury erupted through the air as I brought down the blade like a stake, stabbing it deeply into the deathly red, soft surface of my helpless heart, warm, dark, hot blood spurting everywhere. To my right, the grass rustled, but I was barely aware of it, my hand shaking as I sunk the switchblade deep into the pulsing mass of muscle, contracting and relaxing sharply, in vain.

"What in heaven's name do you tink you're doing, child!" a familiar voice cried, high with horror and disbelief. Slicing the shimmering blade like butter through my dying heart, my eyes slowly drifted upward; towering above me was a living skeleton, clothed in a long, black, flowing hooded robe and clutching a glistening scythe in his fist, the moonbeams softly illuminating his deathly white bones. I couldn't move; I could only stare up at him dumbly, soaked in my own red hot blood, my eyes wide and shining in the milky moonlight. Grim's eye sockets flitted between the switchblade clutched tightly in my bloodstained fist and the feebly beating, dying mass of sliced bloody flesh that was my accursed heart; the thudding heartbeat was slowing, fading out. He mentally connected two and two and his jawbone dropped.

"Mandy….I…I can't believe….how did you learn dat spell…?"

I narrowed my eyes and slowly rose to my feet, still gripping the blood tinged switchblade, sending Grim a burning glare that caused him to give a little jump.

"Go away, Grim." I said slowly and quietly, in my usual sullen monotone, blood dripping from the razor sharp edge of the blade in my hand as I glared daggers at him. "I don't think I ordered you to accompany me, or am I mistaken?"

"No, no, Mandy…" he replied quickly and breathlessly, gesturing uselessly with his bony hands. "It's just…child, you have no clue what you've just…"

"I think I know what I've done, Grim. Now if you would just…"

I gestured for him to leave, my scowl hard and unmoving.

"No, child….Child you have no idea…dere are tings about dat spell dat dey don't put into my book!" Grim looked frantic, waving his arms around like a lunatic.

I gave him my best scathing glare and he shrunk back immediately, looking horrified.

"Shut up, bonehead. I can read; I know what I've…"

On the ground, my dying heart squeezed out a final beat, the weak thump echoing through the cold night air, which had suddenly become as still as a dream. My voice was suddenly cut off as my body seized, my throat burning and constricting painfully, as if I was being throttled by an invisible foe. My legs gave out under me and I sagged to my knees, clutching my chest in agony and stars winking in front of my eyes; it felt like I was being shot with a million tiny darts of shocking pain, first battering my chest and then spreading to the rest of my trembling body. My chest gave a mighty heave and I was knocked flat on my back, thrashing in anguish and tearing frantically at my chest with desperate fingers, my teeth gnashing and the salty taste of blood filling my dry mouth.

"G..**Grim**…" I managed to squeak, my eyes stinging with something wet and hot and salty, blurring my vision; I could make out a faint outline of Grim, stars twinkling in the deep sky behind him as he stared at me in absolute horror. Groaning, I kicked at the ground in misery, ret hot pain exploding in my chest as an eerie red mist swirled around me, blanketing me, scorching me and suffocating me. I had never known pain like this; the burning, salty wetness clouding my eyes suddenly burst forth and poured down my bloodstained, pallid cheeks. My tightly gritted teeth broke apart and a high pitched shriek of absolute agony shattered the air like a wrecking ball, and in one horrified second, I realized that it had erupted from my own mouth. I was vaguely aware of my shaking fingers, pressed up against my chest in sheer desperation, when the flesh under them vanished, and my fingertips came in contact with emptiness and blood, burning wet blood. A gaping hole yawned in my chest, just like the hole that had stood in that very place on that one summer's day, right after I had successfully carried out the _Cardiolectra levavirus_. It was back. My mind froze, everything froze, my fingers poised over the yawning gap, where the flesh of my chest had just been. Twinkling droplets of the hot, clear liquid streaming from my misty eyes crawled down my face and dripped off of my chin, falling down into my empty chest cavity, stinging and burning like liquid fire. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think. I could feel myself sliding away, slipping into the encroaching darkness of the Underworld that leered and threatened to sweep me away.

"Grim…."

My voice was dying, fading out like my detached heartbeat had done; the stars and the outline of Grim's bony form swam before my heavy eyes, swirling and darkening and becoming distorted. The night air was cool against my sticky wet cheeks and my limp, huddled body, still dripping with my own fresh blood. I could faintly feel a strange heat and I glimpsed a strong silver flash, slicing down through the air and sinking into me, held by the swirl of black and milky bone that was Grim. An unearthly fire swept across the hole in my chest; I would have cried out, but I couldn't seem to get my mouth to move anymore. As the inky blackness closed over me, I caught the eyes of a cluster of jewel-like stars, flickering and glittering in the wide sky, curved high over me like a dark curtain. The stars were arranged in the shape of what was clearly a heart, staring down at me, icy and unknowing. I tried to reach for them, but cold gripped my body and I slipped away, my breath leaving me in a warm stream as I melted into blackness.

I lay still. Everything was still, as still as death. It was unnatural. I felt the warm touch of the sun on my skin, and I curled away in discomfort, my cracked lips parting slightly. Burning, yet comforting air curled into my mouth, hovering over my tongue and ticking my throat, as if it wanted to revive me. Wanting to know where I was, I struggled to open my eyes, but the lids stayed as shut as locked doors, too heavy to be moved.

I heard voices as they floated past my ears, slurred and blurred voices, lashing at each other, whining and scolding. My mind dwelled on them for a moment, and the more I rested, the clearer the voices became.

"Billy, how many times do I have to tell you dat you shouldn't stick the soup in her mouth like dat! She could choke to death, you miserable idiot!"

"B..But…But, Griiiiiim! She's hungry!"

I felt a warm embrace wrap itself around my shoulders, lifting my drooping head slightly. A groan escaped my mouth and I struggled to lift my arms, heavy as wet ropes.

"No, Billy, NO! Put her down; you could drop her or someting, you stupid child!"

My head floated down again, and I felt myself being released. My mind swam and I couldn't think straight, so I continued to focus on the blurred voices, which, in some distant region of my brain, registered as vaguely familiar…

"Grim, I thought you were **mad** at her! Why does she **always** get her way?" Billy's stupid voice whimpered, after a short silence.

"I just don't want her to kill me when she wakes up; dat's all." Grim replied, briskly and indignantly. "I know she will if I let you drop her!"

"But Griiiiiiiiiiiiim!"

"Shut your piehole, for the sake of all dat is holy, Billy!"

"You shut **yoooour** piehole!" Billy screeched. "You're not gonna tell me what to do, Grim!"

"You can't talk to me dat way!"

"Yeah I can; yeah I CAN!"

"I've never been so insulted!" Grim huffed, and Billy randomly burst into a frenzy of girlish giggling.

"Grim, can we go play on the see-saw? Huh? Huh? Canwecanwecanwecanwe?"

"No, Billy. For the millionth time, we got to stay here and watch Mandy until…"

Billy whined loudly.

"But she's no fun when she's asleep!"

"Be patient! She'll be awake soon and **den** we can go play on the see-saw. Are you incapable of waiting, child? I tought you said she was your best friend."

There was another silence, and I was aware of a distant clock, ticking faintly in my ears.

"She IS my bestest friend; my bestest friend EVER!"

Something gripped me around the waist, pulling my limp body up into a slouched sitting position, my head lolling helplessly as I struggled to force open my heavy eyelids.

"_**Billy**_!" Grim screeched frantically, horror coloring his voice. "Put her down dis instant, or so help me, I will blast you into oblivion with me scythe and use the ashes to fertilize me azaleas!"

My brain awoke with a start, the warmth surrounding me and lifting me up. Feeble strength tingling inside of me, I struggled and managed to find my voice.

"Grim…? Billy….?" I croaked weakly, my fingers twitching to life but my eyelids still weighed shut. "What…?"

Grim let out a terrified screech and Billy giggled with glee, tightening his grip on my waist, pulling me closer to him in a crushing bear hug that probably fractured every bone in my body.

"_BILLY_! BILLY, PUT HER **DOWN**!" Grim's shrieks sounded more desperate than threatening.

"But she's my beeeeeesst friend!" Billy snorted, laughing like the complete moron he was. There was a sharp smack and Billy's hold on me was released; something thudded to the floor with a pained squeal.

"Owwwwww…" Billy's voice whined, coming from what seemed to be the floor. "Grim…."

"Shut up! You're going to get me into trouble!" Grim barked sharply; I felt his bony touch on me as he reluctantly eased me back onto a wadded mound of soft pillows. Warm lights danced against my closed eyelids, piercing the still, shrouding darkness. "Mandy, are you all right, child?"

"I can't…I…" my low voice wavered, and I struggled to keep it audible; it was so weak that it didn't even sound like mine. "I can't… open my eyes…."

"Billy, bring me dat chicken soup, if you didn't spill it all already!"

"Aw, Grim; I didn't spiiiiill it….I **drank **it!"

Grim groaned, rose to his feet and strode off; I felt his weight lift off of the place on which I was lying, springs creaking loudly. In a flash, I heard his footfalls again as he returned, and carefully perched by my side on the edge of the musty smelling cushions. The unmistakable smell of hot chicken soup billowed through the air, the steam warming my skin.

"Sit up, child…" Grim said quietly, grasping me under the armpits and gently pulling me upright; I leaned heavily against the pillows as I felt the heat of a metal spoon hovering in front of my mouth. "I've got you some soup; here, drink it up, girl…."

The warm broth bubbled inside of me, bringing life back into my exhausted body, tingling and burning and returning my strength. My eyes weakly fluttered open, and they immediately squinted against the golden light of morning that was streaming through the windows. I was bundled up on my living room couch, all cleaned up and in one piece, dressed in a fresh nightgown; I vaguely wondered who had changed my clothes and hoped it wasn't Billy. Grim was sitting there beside me, holding a steaming bowl of soup in the crook of his left arm and a spoon in his right, looking at me strangely; Billy was standing on the floor beside the couch, leaning against the arm and grinning stupidly at me, in his usual hair concealing red baseball cap, striped T-shirt and black jeans.

"Hi, Mandy!" he squeaked as I blinked at the bright rays of sun.

"How long have I been asleep?" My voice sounded familiar again, low and sullen.

"All of yesterday and last night." Grim replied automatically, setting the soup bowl on my lap and stuffing the spoon into my hand, avoiding my gaze. "I was beginning to tink me countercurse had failed."

His voice almost cracked on that last word. I just stared at him with a blank face as if I'd never seen him before, holding my soup spoon poised over my bowl.

"A countercurse, huh?" I said flatly as I spooned some soup into my mouth, swiftly looking away from Grim and rearranging my dumbstruck expression into one of unimpressed boredom. "What's up with that?"

"I've just gotta protect you, dat's it." Grim responded robotically, folding his hands in his lap and fixing his gaze on his glittering scythe, which was leaning against the wall in the far corner of the room. "After all, we have to be best friends forever or whatever."

"Best friends forever…." Billy muttered dreamily, breaking the silence, his eyes glazed over as he stared straight at me. My mouth twisting into a scowl of disgust, I dropped my spoon, pulled my fist back, and landed a swift blow right on his massive nose, my eye twitching in anger as Billy crumpled to the floor, laughing. Grim eyed him with mild interest as he stood up, swaying and giggling moronically. "Mandy's my **best** friend…."

"Shut up, Billy." I hissed, narrowing my eyes and shaking my clenched fist at him. "Don't remind me; I'm trying to heal here. And while you're just standing there like an idiot, make yourself useful and go get me some orange juice. And remember, I like it _fresh_." I crackled my knuckles loudly on that last word. Like usual, Billy looked completely unfazed.

"Glad you're in such a good mood, Mandy!" he sang stupidly before skipping out of the room, heading for the kitchen, as bright as the morning sun. Discomfort spread over Grim's face as soon as he realized that now we were alone in the room together, and he purposely looked away from me, pretending that the lamp he was staring at was the most fascinating thing in the universe. Setting my soup bowl and spoon down on the coffee table, I took a deep breath, ignoring the roar of the food processor and Billy's shrill screams ("It's eating my FACE! MY **FACE!**!"), both sounds erupting from the kitchen.

"Grim…" I said quietly.

"Mandy." He replied uneasily, my name quickly slipping over his tongue like a dirty cuss word. I looked up at him and he struggled to keep his eyes away, eventually failing pitifully, looking irritated and defeated as his eye sockets swiveled to meet my gaze.

"What?" he asked irritably. "And stop looking at me like dat."

The gears in my brain clanked furiously, trying to piece together some kind of response.

"You didn't have to do that, you know."

"Do what, child?"

"You know what, so don't play dumb with me."

The silence was louder than the earsplitting commotion coming from the kitchen; it sounded like Billy was being eaten alive. Grim fidgeted, twisting his fingers in his lap and looking away from me again. He didn't say anything, and his silence riled me; my dark eyebrows narrowed my eyes into their usual angry slits.

"You could have finally gotten rid of me, Grim!" I burst out, pointing accusingly at him. "Didn't you realize that? I could've _died_ and you would've never had to do another job for me… **ever again**! Why did you save me?"

Grim fidgeted again as the word "died" burst out of my mouth. Yet he remained as silent as a corpse and as stubborn as a brick wall.

"Why did you save me, Grim? You know I don't believe in happy endings."

I stared at him for a few seconds, my arms folded angrily against my chest, when Grim suddenly turned around, looking straight into my eyes, which instantly widened into dumbstruck moons against my will. His mouth opened slightly, as if he was going to speak, but he silently closed it, looking away from me again. His arm snaked down to my side and back up to my chest; he extended his bony pointer finger and gave me a sharp poke, right on the flesh that lay above where my heart should have been. At the exact same moment in which Grim withdrew his pointed finger, a steady thumping began to pulse in my chest, as if Grim had turned it on with a light switch. My mouth fell open and both my hands flew to my chest, feeling my flesh with awe. Through the warm skin, I could feel what was unmistakably a heartbeat, thudding rhythmically, pumping the gushing life through my veins. By the time I looked up, my eyes glistening and my mouth open in amazement, Grim was gone, striding out of the room to assist Billy in the kitchen, his long black robes billowing behind him.

I suddenly remembered something, and the image of it filled my head; those stars in the sky that I had seen just before I'd blacked out, the stars in the plain shape of a heart, gazing down at me, calm and serene. My dreams that night were filled with those stars, that heart, and I awoke suddenly with my fingers pressed over my chest, feeling my steady heartbeat. I still dream of those heart shaped stars. Every single night.

**-End-**


End file.
